


The Last Resort

by Marblez



Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mild Language, Murder, Prison, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:20:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marblez/pseuds/Marblez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy had no choice.<br/>In order to save his brothers he had to give up his own life, give up on everything he ever wanted and dreamed.<br/>He had to commit the one crime he never thought he would.<br/>Murder. </p><p>(originally poster on fanfiction.net)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Mighty Ducks'.

Summary: Guy saves his brothers by sacrificing everything.

The Last Resort

~ Prologue ~

Pulling the gun out of it's hiding place under his mattress he checked that it was loaded with shaking hands. It was. Six bullets. Looking in the mirror was a mistake; he hated the battered thing that stared back at him with almost dead eyes. Snapping his eyes away he walked out of his bedroom and down the hall, heading for his parents room. He tried his hardest not to think about the sinful crime he was about to commit. But he had no choice.

"Guy?" the quiet voice came from behind him and he turned around slowly, the gun held in his hand at his side, "What are you doing?"

"Saving us. It's alright, Mikey, go back to bed," Guy said gently. Mikey stared at the black gun in silence for a moment before speaking, his tone full of worry,

"You gonna shoot daddy?"

"Yes."

"It won't kill him. You can't kill the Devil," Michael said completely seriously. Guy shuddered at the almost dead tone of his baby brothers voice and he felt his determination to do this evil deed grow within him. They had all suffered enough at Patrick Germaines hands.

Tonight it ended.

Michael slipped back into the room he shared with Peter and Guy continued down the cluttered hall. Opening the door to his parents room as quietly as he could he tip-toed over their mess until he stood at **his** side of the bed. He could smell the alcohol on his fathers breath as he aimed the pistol at his forehead.

He took a deep breath.

He closed his eyes.

He pulled the trigger.

A/N This is a very short teaser. Hope you liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Mighty Ducks'.

Summary: Guy saves his brothers by sacrificing everything.

The Last Resort

~ Chapter One ~

"I'm sorry sir, you can't go in there-"

"I'm Gordon Bombay, Mr Germaines attorney."

"Ah. Well you wont have much of a job to do. Kids already confessed to one of the murders and the evidence will get him on the second. You could make our jobs easier and get him to confess to both."

This was said as the door to the small interrogation room was finally opened and Gordon Bombay, dressed in his most lawyer like suit stepped inside. Guy looked up from the spot on the table he'd been staring at since they'd left him alone after taking his official statement.

"Oh Guy…"

"Sorry Coach…I-I didn't know who else to call," Guy said quietly, looking away from the sad face as he tried to hold back his tears. His hands were cuffed behind his back still so any tears he shed would fall unstopped down his cheeks. He didn't want anyone to see him cry.

"Can the cuffs be removed please?" Gordon asked as he noticed them. The cop did as he was asked and Guy brought his hands round, rubbing the sore wrists gently. "And I want the recording equipment switched off. My client is entitled to a private conversation with me before we continue."

"I'll see to it," the cop nodded before leaving the room. Gordon sat in the seat opposite Guy, placing his briefcase on the desk in front of him. Over the intercom the same cop said, "You've got ten minutes, then the recording equipment goes back on."

"Thank you," Gordon said to the one way mirror before looking back to Guy who was staring at the same spot on the table, "Oh Guy, what happened? Why did you kill him?" Guy let out a small sob before beginning to speak in a choked voice,

"My little brothers call our father the Devil and with good reason. I was eight when it first happened to me, when he came into my bedroom at night. He'd gotten tired of beating my mother senseless and then raping her. He moved on to me," he wiped a tear away as Gordon stared in shock, "I got used to it. I learnt to deal with it. But then about a year ago I realised he was doing the same to Peter and Michael. I confronted him about it and-and he almost killed me. I was out of school for a week. He threatened us into silence after that, he said he'd kill our mum if we ever told or tried to run away." Another tear was wiped away with a shaking hand,

"When I was away at the Goodwill Games he…he really hurt Peter. He had to go to hospital. No one told me until I got back and found my little brother had 'been trying to cook himself some dinner against his parents wishes and his sleeve had caught fire'. That's what the hospital report says. In reality my little brother who was ten years old at the time had tried to stand up to my bastard of a father and he'd set his sleeve on fire with his lighter. He'd stood and watched as my brother's arm was burnt so badly he's going to be crippled all his life. He laughed." The tears fell unstopped now as he remembered finding all this out from Peter and Michael as if it were yesterday, "That was the day I realised that the only way to save my brothers lives was to kill my father."

"I would hav-" Gordon began.

"Please Coach, just let me tell it. If I stop now…I don't know if I'll be able to finish it," Guy said tearfully, almost pleading with Gordon. Slowly Gordon nodded, signalling for the fifteen year old to continue with the story. "I bought a gun with all the money I'd saved up from odd jobs and chores. I hid it and…and waited. I waited almost a year until…until he…he brought a friend over to play with Michael. Michael is nine years old. I tried to stop them and for my trouble I got the shit kicked out of me and I was tied to a chair and I had to watch," Guys voice was so choked by tears Gordon could barely hear him, "That was two weeks ago. I waited until he went on one of drinking sprees. I didn't know about mum, I didn't see her all evening. I just thought she'd gone out. I waited until he went to bed, I got my gun and I shot him in head. I was too much of a coward to do it when he was awake." He took a deep breath and his tear filled eyes met Gordon's almost calmly, "I told the police that came to the scene this. I didn't hide anything about the murder. I am prepared to accept the punishment for my actions. Because now my brothers are safe. They're out of that house. I just-I just have one favour to ask you Coach…"

"Ask," Gordon whispered, never breaking eye contact.

"Make sure they stay together and that they go to a nice family and that their happy. I don't want to have rescued them from one Hell only to end up in another," Guy sobbed, wiping at his cheeks again and again in an attempt to get rid of his tears. "Will you do that?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"I promise. And I will do everything in my power to help you Guy," Gordon promised passionately, his hands moving out automatically to hold Guy's shaking ones gently on the table top.

"I don't care about me. I'm not worth saving any more. He's poisoned my mind and my body. They can still be saved. I'm-I'm a lost cause Coach," Guy said sadly, "I just killed my own father and I deserve whatever punishment they give me. I will accept whatever punishment they will give me."

"I don't care what you think Guy. I will fight for you," Gordon said passionately just as the door opened and a detective in a smart suit walked in.

"Times up I'm afraid, the recording equipment is being turned back on," the detective said quietly, "We need to interrogate Mr Germaine now." Gordon got up from the seat he was in and sat in the one next to Guy while the detective sat down in his recently vacated seat. "I take it you have agreed to represent him."

"Yes."

"Then we'll begin. Could you please state your name for the record and spell it aloud," the detective looked at Guy who was wiping his cheeks quickly.

"Guy Germaine. G-U-Y G-E-R-M-A-I-N-E," Guy answered slowly.

"Did you kill your father Guy?" the detective asked.

"Yes."

And so began the interrogation.

A/N Ta-Dah. What do you think those few of you who have read this?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Mighty Ducks'.

Summary: Guy saves his brothers by sacrificing everything.

The Last Resort

~ Chapter Two ~

**DOUBLE MURDER IN ST PAUL, MINNESOTA.**

Early this morning the bodies of Patrick and Helen Germaine were discovered in their bedroom by Police responding to a 911 call made by their eldest son.

In the call their son, who at this point cannot be named, confessed to the murder of his father and claimed that he'd discovered his mothers body.

So far this has neither been confirmed nor denied.

The Germaines two younger sons have been taken into care.

**SON SAVES BROTHERS FROM ABUSIVE FATHER.**

It has now been reported that Patrick Germaine was shot in the head by his son to save his two younger brothers from their father's violent and sexual attacks.

Forensic evidence has led to the belief that Patrick Germaine himself had beaten his wife to death earlier in the evening, clearing his son of the second charge of murder.

**GERMAINE CASE GOES TO TRIAL.**

Today Guy Germaine, 15, goes on trial for the murder of his father two weeks ago.

Mr Bombay, a lawyer who has returned to the profession for this case, released this statement on today's trial;

"Guy Germaine shot his father in self-defence.

Now it wasn't self-defence in the strictest definition of the word but self-defence it was and that is the argument we will be using in court."

We'll have to wait and see if Mr Bombay's argument is enough.

**GERMAINE TRIAL OVER.**

Yesterday the court listened to what Guy Germaine, 15, had to say in his own defence when charged with murdering his father,

"I am guilty of murdering him and I will accept whatever punishment is seen fit.

But you should know a couple of things about him before you pass your sentence.

When I was eight years old he started abusing me in every sense of the word, he was tired with hurting my mother.

I put up with it.

A few years ago he started do the same to my brothers.

I could not and would not put up with that.

I bought a gun and I waited until the next time he drank himself to sleep.

And then I saved my brothers.

I wish I'd saved my mother too.

As for saving me, well I just killed someone.

I don't think I'm worth saving do you?"

The jury took over an hour to decide the sentence of Mr Germaine - he was found guilty of murder.

_Dear Ducks,_

_I am writing this letter to say goodbye. Please don't try to visit. Please don't write. I want you to forget all about me and move on with your lives._

_Your Sincerely,_

_Guy Germaine._

A/N There we go. What do you think?


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Mighty Ducks'.

Summary: Guy saves his brothers by sacrificing everything.

The Last Resort

~ Chapter Three ~

"Look I'm going to be blunt, I don't trust you. You're an ex-con, worse than that you're a murderer. Ideally I wouldn't have you working for me, if you came to an interview I wouldn't even give you a chance. But I know Jake, you're parole officer, and I've never had cause not to believe before. He says you're a good guy. So I'm taking you on as a Rink Janitor. You'll be working with Paul; he will be in charge of you. Any problems or complaints and you're out," Mr Preston, the Rink Manager said almost coldly. The man sitting on the other side of his desk nodded, his eyes down. "Fill this form out with your personal details. Then read this contract and sign on the dotted line. You'll get a copy of the contract to keep yourself."

"Right," the mans voice was hoarse, like he'd smoked too many cigarettes. His hands reached out and took the pen and the two sheets of paper. Mr Preston noticed immediately the tattoos on both hands, across the fingers - LOVE on the right, HATE on the left. Prison tattoos. There were scars on his hands too and they disappeared under the cuffs of his long sleeved shirt. Leaning on the edge of the desk he wrote quietly, filling in the personal details form with his messy handwriting. He held the pen awkwardly in his right hand, like his fingers had been broken and hadn't been set properly afterwards. "I don't have a home number at the moment. Will a cell number be alright?"

"Yes, that'll be fine," Mr Preston nodded, watching as the number was scribbled down. "What happened to your hand?"

"Fingers broken too many times," a shrug accompanied his answer.

"Will you be able to handle the job?" Mr Preston asked.

"It's just cleaning," the man shrugged again, "We cleaned a lot in prison." He finished filling in the form and then picked up the contract, holding it close to his face to read it. His free hand reached up and pushed his hair out of his face, showing his face to Mr Preston for the first time in this interview. His eyes were dull and had a tired look to them. He also had two scars on his face, one on his forehead, which split his left eyebrow and disappeared into his hairline. The other scar was on his right cheek and seemed like it was still healing. Not so much a scar as a cut. Eventually he'd read it all and obviously agreed with what it said as he signed his name on the dotted line and handed both forms back.

"Thank you," Mr Preston said as he took them back, putting them next to each other on his desk. "You're hours are seven am to five pm. You'll have an hour lunch and two half hour breaks. On game days you'll be expected to stay on and help clean up during and after. Paul will tell you all about this when you start tomorrow." He stood from his seat and the man opposite hurried to copy him. Mr Preston went over to one of the many cabinet in his office and opened it up, pulling out a khaki set of over-alls with 'Janitor' stencilled on the back. He then grabbed a baseball cap, also marked with the word 'Janitor'. He handed both things to the man. "Do you have a pair of good working boots? Preferably black?"

"I have the boots I'm wearing. The prison gave them to me when I got out," he lifted up his jeans to show the marine style boots, already scuffed to Hell.

"They'll do," Mr Preston nodded, "You can wear whatever tops you want under the over-all. Be here on the dot at seven and ready to work. Paul will meet you at the doors; he has the keys. He'll show you where to sign in and he'll explain your duties to you. See you tomorrow Mr Germaine."

"Thank you," Guy said, holding his uniform tightly as he left the room. He walked down the stairs from the Rink Managers office, walked through the lobby and then out into the cold Minnesota air. He'd been out of prison a couple of weeks and the only person he'd talked to was his parole officer, Jake. No one else knew he was out. Not his brothers. Not his old friends. Not even Bombay, he'd hired a different lawyer for his parole hearing. Jake had gotten him his cheap and cheerful apartment and had found him the job too, something he was sure he wouldn't have been able to do on his own. His status as an ex-con had people literally shrinking back in fear; especially when they found out he had been in for murder. No one he'd approached had wanted to give him a job.

"So?" Jake asked, jumping up from where he'd been leaning on the hood of his car waiting for Guy.

"I got the job. It's pretty much white slavery but I didn't really expect more," Guy answered with a shrug, getting into the parole officers car when Jake unlocked the car. "I've got to be back, dressed in these, at seven am tomorrow morning. I'll have to find out what bus I should catch…"

"I'll give you a ride tomorrow and we'll sort out the buses later," Jake said eagerly as he started the car.

"You're way too nice for a cop," Guy told him, "Fuck I need a cigarette."

"Roll down the window and you can have one," Jake said. Guy muttered thanks as he did just that, "And I'm your parole officer, it's my job to be nice to you."

"Not this nice. Word was parole officers will do only what they need to and cut you free," Guy told him as he lit up his cigarette, breathing in the smoke eagerly.

"Well that's not the way I do it. I think you have the potential to be a good guy, I think you are a good guy. You just need a helping hand and I will be that helping hand," Jake said with a bright grin.

"Right…" Guy nodded slowly, "Fine, you want to help me, help me."

"Oh I will."

A/N There we go. Another chapter. What do you think?


	5. Chapter 5

~ Chapter Four ~

Guy had been working at the rink for a little over a year when he stepped out onto the ice for the first time in over a decade.

It felt like he was coming home.

The skates he wore were too big and had been fished out of the dumpster, the blades old but intact.

Taping them around the ankle supports wasn’t anything new to him.

He took it easy at first.

One lap.

Two laps.

Then he started picking up speed.

Three laps.

Four laps.

By the fifth lap he was relaxed enough to try reversing his direction of travel, skating backwards for a bit before correcting himself.

After that there was no stopping him.

He skated until his legs threatened to give out beneath him having worked a full day before risking the trip out onto the ice once everyone else was gone for the night.

Or so he thought.

As he came to a halt, bent double with his hands on his knees as he wheezed for breath someone began to clap.

“Who’s there?” he demanded, glaring up at the stands. “Rinks closed.”

Skating over to the edge of the rink he climbed into one of the team boxes where he’d left his work boots and set about un-taping his skates.

“You’re good.”

The voice startled him.

Whoever it was, was making their way down the darkened stands behind him, their footsteps echoing around the empty room.

“Not interested.”

Pulling off his skates he shoved them into the top of his battered looking back pack, also a dumpster save, before setting to work on the broken laces of his work boots.

“You play any hockey?”

“I said not interested.”

Apparently the other man couldn’t take a hint even when it was worded as plainly as that.

“I’m Peter. I’m one of the event organisers here at the rink.”

“Still not interested.”

“I’m also the Captain of the rinks amateur employee team.”

Ok, Guy thought as he did up the buttons on his coat, maybe he was a little bit interested.

Not that he’d tell him that…

“I’m looking for a new Right Wing.”

His old position.

Shit…

It nearly killed him to get the words out but he knew it was for the best.

“Not interested.”

“Why not?” the other young man asked as he finally stepped into view.

He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome and was dressed in a smart suit reminiscent of the ones Bombay had worn during his time as ‘Captain Blood.’

“You don’t want me in your team.”

“With moves like that?” Peter laughed, gesturing to the ice. “I’d have to be a fool not to want you.”

Guy shook his head and turned to go.

“If it’s about being an ex-con I already know!” Peter called out.

Guy froze.

“How?” he asked softly.

He’d learned pretty quickly that life was easier for him if people didn’t know about his past.

There were less…problems.

“Management Team was informed when you were taken on. I don’t care. So, you’ve played Hockey before?”

“Pewees…” Guy answered softly, turning to face the other man.

“Were you any good? I mean, your footwork looked good from what I could see, if a little slow.”

Guy smiled.

“First time on the ice since I got put away,” he explained with a shrug. “And I guess I was ok.”

“Win any championships?” Peter asked.

Guy hesitated.

“One. Just the local one.”

His brain was screaming at him but he knew that if he admitted to playing in the Junior Goodwill Games the year that America finally won he knew that the other man would look him up and make the connection between him and some of the biggest names currently in the sport.

Charlie Conway – Captain of the New York Rangers, Captain of Team USA and Olympic Gold Medallist.

Adam Banks – New York Rangers, Team USA and Olympic Gold Medallist.

Luis Mendoza – Captain of the Florida Panthers, Team USA and Olympic Gold Medallist.

Fulton Reed and Dean Portman – Anaheim Mighty Ducks, Team USA and Olympic Gold Medallists.

And of course Gordon Bombay – Coach of the New York Rangers and Team USA, leading them to Championship Titles and Gold Medals at the Olympics.

“We’ve got try-outs tomorrow night,” Peter explained with a friendly smile. “You’re more than welcome to come.”

Guy bit his lip.

It was a bad idea.

It was a very bad idea.

And yet…

“I’ll think about it.”

~ * ~

A/N So…it’s been a while. Sorry. Real life has been…less fun than I would like. Only highlight is planning my wedding. Anyway let me know what you think. Also I’m kind of torn as to which pairing to go with so who would everyone like to see Guy get together with? Can be Het or Slash. J


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own 'The Mighty Ducks'.

Summary: Guy saves his brothers by sacrificing everything.

~ The Last Resort ~

~ Chapter Five ~

Guy laughed, allowing himself to be swept up by his teammates as they hurried off of the ice and into the locker room following their latest victory on the amateur circuit, ducking off to one side once the cans of beer started being opened and emptied over people's heads.

He'd been playing on the team for six months now.

It had been difficult at first, mostly due to the tension between him and the other players who were put off by his brooding silence, gruff words, his scars and his numerous tattoos.

Peter had been nothing if not determined, however, and soon the others were as impressed by his skills on the ice as he was, helping him to quickly return to the level of playing he had been at before he'd been locked up by running countless plays with him and lending him kit.

He'd been tempted to request ‘00’ when they'd put the order in for his uniform for his first game but he'd agreed to ‘05’ when they'd suggested, smiling as he thought of the fiery figure skater who had worn that particular number for a time, but had insisted they put ‘G’ instead of his full name, pointing out when they'd argued against it that they didn't want the negative publicity that would undoubtedly come with the name ‘Germaine’ in this city.

Guy had just begun stripping out of his kit when the door of the locker room burst open and Jane, one of their three female players who was currently on maternity leave from the team, rushed in with the biggest smile Guy had ever seen on her face.

“You will never guess who I was sat next to in the stands,” she called out above the noise of the teams celebrations, drawing all their attention to herself. “Gordon Bombay. The Gordon Bombay, Olympic Gold Hockey Coach, who is replacing a Coach Mattheson next month!”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Even as his fellow teammates scrambled towards their heavily pregnant player, eager to hear all about the chance meeting, Guy stumbled off towards the showers genuinely struggling to suck air into his lungs, leaning against the cold wall for support until finally he stumbled into the communal shower and got himself under the lukewarm spray of water.

He didn't even notice he hadn't finished undressing for a long moment.

Fuck.

“Guy?” Peters voice echoed in the large room as he moved to use the next showered head along from Guy, frowning at the clothes his friend was still wearing. “Hey. What's up?”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

“Gordon _fucking_ Bombay.”

Peter frowned.

It was very unusual for Guy to loose his temper, knowing that to do so could be dangerous for him if the wrong person reported it to the police (not that his parole office would listen to them) so Peter was somewhat taken aback by the vehement tone of voice he'd just used.

“What about him?” he asked, pitching his voice to be as casual as possible whilst starting to wash the sweat out of his short hair, watching as Guy started to strip off his soaking wet clothes. “He's going to be a great asset to the professional team, not to mention a fantastic boost for the rinks publicity. And he's bringing two of his star players with him for a season.”

Guy froze.

“Who?” he demanded sharply. “Who's he bringing with him?”

“Adam Banks and Charlie Conway.”

Fuck.

“He's taking over the professional side of the rink so that he can use his home town as his training venture for the next Olympic Team once the season over,” Peter continued with a shrug, sharing information that would soon be common knowledge. “There's a pretty good chance that some of our professional player could end up joining Banks and Conway on his Olympic team if they play well enough under his direction. The higher ups are thrilled.”

“Fuck…”

“Guy?”

Obviously Peter had just noticed how the colour had drained out of Guys skin, leaving him as pale as death as he stared down at the tattoos and scars littering his knuckles and fingers.

“Guy, what is it?”

“I don't want to leave…” Guy found himself mumbling. “I…I just started getting settled…”

“Leave?” Peter gasped loudly. “Why would you leave?”

“I can't…I can't be here if they're here…” he mumbled, shaking his head which dislodged the tears which had been building up in his eyes as he felt the world he had created for himself following prison crumbling down around him. “They…they can't know I'm…fuck…”

“Guy, you're not making any sense…” Peter mumbled, moving to stand directly in front of his friend and teammate, reaching out to touch his arm gently. “What do you mean?”

“You know I told you I played peewee hockey before I…you know…” Guy mumbled hesitantly, the words lodging in his throat as he was forced to share information he had kept secret until now. “I used…I used to play for a team called District Five…”

Peters mouth dropped open in shock.

He'd heard enough about Gordon Bombay’s rise to coaching fame to recognise the name.

“One day we got a new coach,” Guy continued, the words rushing out now in their need to to be heard. “He turned up in a limo as part of his community service…acted like a right idiot at first…tried to make us cheat...but then, I don't know, he started to like us and…”

“You got sponsored by his law firm, changed your team name to ‘The Ducks’ and won that years peewee championship,” Peter finished the familiar story for him. “You were…”

“Then, a couple of years later during which we'd won the championship two more times, he selected some of us to represent the USA…” Guy pressed on, his voice becoming more and more choked while his continued tears were washed away by the water from the shower. “So we went and we trained and we won and we came home with gold medals…”

“You were one of Bombay’s original ‘Might Ducks’…”

Guy nodded.

“Until I found out that while I was away my bastard of a father had started…doing things to my little brother because I wasn't there for him to…to…” he all but growled, brushing a hand over his eyes roughly. “I killed him. I was convicted of First Degree Murder despite the best efforts of my lawyer and I'll give you three guesses who I had defending me…”

“Gordon Bombay.”

“Gordon _fucking_ Bombay…” Guy laughed bitterly once more. “And now, just when I've started to make something of my life since getting out of prison, just when I started making friend they have to come back and…and fuck everything up and I have to…”

“Why do you have to leave?”

“They don't know I’m out of prison,” Guy answered softly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “I didn't tell them when my parole hearing came up. Handled it on my own because I knew that they'd have dropped everything to come and support me even though we haven't talked in ten years and how the fuck would that look? Some of the countries star hockey players associated with a convicted murderer? I'll tell you how it would look. Bad.”

Peter winced.

Unfortunately Guy did have a point although he thought it should have been his friends choice whether or not they wanted to risk the backlash with their career rather than Guy simply cutting ties with everyone he knew like a self-sacrificing lamb to the slaughter.

His life must have been so lonely…so empty…

“I mean, fucks sake, I didn't even let my brothers know when I got out,” he finished softly, his handsome features twisting with pain. “Not that I know where they are any more. Coach let me know what they got out in a foster home and then when they got adopted but…”

“Guy, you don't have to leave,” Peter murmured softly, reaching out with his other hands so that he could place both his hands on Guys shaking shoulders. “It's your choice whether or not you make contact with anyone but you don't have to leave.”

Guy shook his head.

“They'd see me…”

“So what?” Peter scoffed loudly. “I'm pretty sure they're old enough now to make their own decisions regarding their lives and their careers. Guy, you gave up everything, everything, to rid the world of a…a disgusting human being and to save your brothers.”

As he spoke he remembered reading something about a murder case when he was still in college, a teenager who'd killed his sexually abusive father to save his younger brothers and couldn't help but wonder if Guys names would be linked to the article were he to look it up.

“Guy. You have a good job here. You've made friends here,” Peter pointed out firmly, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Don't ruin your own life over something that might not happen.”

Guy bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Stay. Live your life the way you want to…the way you deserve…”

The arrival of the rest of their team, all naked and all still whooping and cheering, saved Guy from having to respond and gave him the excuse he needed to turn away from Peter.

Peter with his kind words, his honest if a little bit sad smile and his gentle hands.

Washing himself off quickly he gathered up his soaked clothes and hurried back into the now empty hanging room, drying himself off and dressing in his street clothes as quickly as he could before he stuffed his wet things in his bag along with his uniform, pads and skates and hurried out of the room, out of the building and over to the shelter by the bus stop.

His hands were shaking as he sparked up a cigarette.

Peters words played over and over in his head.

He'd made the decision once to save his friends and remaining family from the mess he had created but that had been back when they were kids, back before their careers had even started to rake off, back when they literally had everything to loose…

A car pulled up by the bus stop.

“Hey!” Jake called out as he rolled down the window. “Get it! I'll give you a lift home.”

Holding the cigarette between his lips Guy obediently opened the back door if the car, dumping his back inside, before slipping into the front passenger seat, doing up his seatbelt before rolling down the window so he could finish his cigarette in the car as per usual.

“Caught the end of your game,” Jake commented cheerfully as he pulled out into the traffic. “Nice goal, by the way, although I heard your earlier one was even more impressive.”

Guy merely grunted in reply.

He had a great deal of thinking to do and making small talk with his overly cheerful parole officer (who would no doubt Echo what Peter had said) was not going to help him just then.

“And that girl on your team, the redhead,” Jake broke off with a whistle. “Man, if I were ten years younger and single I would be asking you to introduce me. She is one hell of a player!”

Guy settled in for a journey of inane chatter which, admittedly, was so familiar it helped calm him down so that by the time they reached his building he could speak calmly again.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he leaned back to grab hold of his bag, placing it on his lap as he opened his car door. “I might be late tomorrow. Depends on work.”

“No worries, you know that,” Jake responded brightly. “Night, Guy.”

“Night.”

No worries.

Huh…

Would that be nice?

 **A/N** So…long time no Guy Germaine angst…lol…but look, what is this? A whole chapter? I'm definitely enjoying the burst of inspiration I'm getting having just finished the monster that is ‘Of Lions And Lambs’ and hopefully it'll last long enough for me to finish some of these older stories that have been collecting dust for…a while. Comments/Suggestions welcome. X  


 


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